


Voice of the Heart

by jeck



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), American Idol RPF, Kris Allen (Musician)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-13
Updated: 2010-07-13
Packaged: 2017-10-10 13:05:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/100099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeck/pseuds/jeck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Summary:</b> Sometimes simple words are not enough.</p><p><b>Author's Notes:</b> This fic is dedicated to my girl, dramady. <3</p>
            </blockquote>





	Voice of the Heart

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** This transformative work of fiction is the intellectual property of the authors so please do not copy or redistribute. This is a non-profit, non-commercial work of fiction using the names and likenesses of real individuals. This fictional story is not intended to imply that the events herein actually occurred, or that the attitudes or behaviors described are engaged in or condoned by the real persons whose names are used without permission.

  
Kris was never really a good student. He skated by riding on B's and C's with a splattering of D's here and there. But if there was one thing he found he was good at, it was poetry. A's that didn't seem to belong once he'd read infamous poets with their infamous words, stirring his emotions, making him laugh and cry and _feel_.

It was later that Kris found that poetry could be born from within. He wrote them, pages and pages in his journal as he traveled the world. They weren't measured, not always, and sometimes they came with no rhyme or reason. But as soon as he set them to music, he was amazed at how they just became alive.

This was how he'd come to have written so many songs, to break free and put a voice to the words that were trapped in his heart.

So, when it came time for him to live his dream, it was with someone else's words he was asked to sing. That or share his words with someone else, his heart's voice interspersed with strangers'. It wasn't what he though it would be and for Kris, sharing his heart did not come easy. Internally he fought a battle with himself, hearing the despicable words the suits over at 19 kept telling him.

This was the way to go. This was the only way to go.

It broke his heart and Kris hated it.

The time came to start their tour and Kris came back from one of these grueling sessions. His brain felt like it was broken open, his heart ripped out and stomped on.

Quietly and in the dead of night, he crawled down to his bottom bunk. He could feel the tires happily rumbling, the pavement both smooth and rough, the whirr of the engine a welcome sound to hear and he hoped it was enough to lull him to sleep. Kris felt the rumble on his back and then he put his arm over his eyes, closing them tight, sighing deeply. Defeatedly.

There was a thump of bare feet on the bus floor. Footsteps making the floor creak, stopping right next to him, the brush of material as someone most likely crouched down.

Kris could smell Adam's cologne. He should know. They've lived together for months that it had become something he was used to, something he could tell from several feet away.

The curtain moved, pushed aside, a hand, large, warm, soft, placed on his, caressing gently.

"Hey," Adam whispered, "you okay?"

Kris moved, blinking his eyes slowly and it was like a dam had burst right after he shook his head no.

Adam let Kris talk about what bothered him. They were awake the whole night.

"Next time," Adam said, pressing their foreheads together, looking into Kris's eyes despite them trapped in the dark of night with only street lamps that they passed as their source of light. "Call me. Text me. Tweet me." Adam kissed Kris's forehead, smoothing the creased lines of deep thought with his lips.

"I promise," Kris heard himself say, his eyes blinking slowly, closing, the feel of Adam's lips lingering long after they had gone back to bed, the sun already beginning to peek out of the lightening sky.

So, the next time that Kris had to write with someone, there he was, brain feeling like it was clogged up, unable to let the words flow. His heart shutting every emotion out.

Picking up his phone he tried to send Adam a text and, even then, no words came. The little cursor blinked at him, taunting him.

Kris closed his eyes and he went back to that night. The smell of Adam's shampoo mingling with his cologne, the feel of his hand, soft and large and warm touching his cheek, the words quietly spoken as Adam helped his heart to heal.

He thumb typed the words that seemed to have appeared out of thin air.

_You could break this silence with  
Words we wish we'd never said  
But I can hear it like a scream  
What's become of you and me?  
Are we still inside this night  
Or am I going crazy?_

Kris had no idea where that came from but there it was. Still startled, he hit the send button on his phone before he could run back inside himself and hide. The little whoosh sound from his iPhone told him that the message was on its way to Adam and Kris went back in the room, his words as text kept in the phone clutched tightly in his hand.

After that, the words -- they began to flow.

Once done, Kris checked his messages, knowing he had several with the phone vibrating incessantly in his pocket as they finshed with his song. When he finally checked -- 7 texts and 3 voice messages from Adam.

He called and began to explain. "They're lyrics," he said. "I was havin' a hard time and you said --"

"You're an ass, Kris Allen," Adam's sweet voice wasn't there and what carried across the line was a voice Kris didn't like. "You could have said something. I was fucking worried!" Came Adam's angered reply.

It made Kris wince but then his voice broke the awkward silence that followed. In a low but quiet whisper, he apologized. "'m sorry, a'right? I was just ..."

"Yeah, I know," Adam answered in that sweet voice Kris loved. Adam knew him very well. Very, very well that even Kris would admit to that. "Just don't do that again, okay?"

"Never again." Kris crossed his heart even if Adam couldn't see it. "Thanks, y'know?" He added, "cos that started it all. The song's great. I can't wait for you to hear it." He smiled, finally. It had been days since he last truly smiled.

~

The next message was sent a good week later but, learning his lesson (and so as not to freak Adam out), Kris sent, by text, two words: **lyrics forthcoming**

It was better than just texting the words that slowly unjumbled in his head and he surely couldn't have Adam thinking that he was going nuts or worse. Still, he typed it up and sent it:

_There's something about the way  
You make me feel  
I'm ready to confess  
That you take my heart  
And baby, I'm a mess_

By the time they wrapped up Kris's phone had one text message in reply. It read: **But you are one hot mess ;) **

Kris laughed. Only Adam.

~

The following time Kris sent Adam a message, it was very accusing. He couldn't help but point it out.

**This is all your fault for playing Lady Gaga all the time**, it read.

Shortly after that he sent this:

_I wake up, put MY POKER FACE on  
It's roughly the same hand  
I was dealt yesterday_

The text back came quick.

**HAHAHA :)**

Kris rolled his eyes.

~

Throughout the course of the two months, closer to the end of their time on the tour, the texts had become a sort of staple. Something that Kris did out of habit now, or, at least that was what he told himself.

If he would run out of lyrics of his own to send, he found other songs could just as easily put his emotions into words.

But, it was the last day of tour when the texts had gone beyond song lyrics and back to the very nature of where Kris got his words.

Poetry.

It was when he found a book wrapped in plain paper that sat undisturbed on top of the bunk at the very bottom of the floor of the bus. Kris had packed all his things and had gone back for one last check before he would say his goodbyes and turn around and leave this wonderful world behind.

He was on his own. Alone. But now, he had a book of poetry to keep him company.

Kris remembered to thank Adam for that.

~

At present, now, with Adam and Kris on their own cross-country tours, the texts had become few and far between. But even with both of them busy, Kris just never seemed to be able to stop. He would still text Adam lyrics from his new songs.

Secrets. Words no one else had really seen.

Sometimes they'd be poems from the now dog-eared book he kept close to his side.

It had been too long since Kris's last message.

_is that you &amp;  
i are more than you_

&amp; i(be

ca  
us

e It's we)

Adam sent back one line: **I miss we**

Kris stared at the screen his heart beating fast. Those three words made him clutch his chest and close his eyes tight.

He missed Adam. More than anything Kris _missed him_.

He answered back:

_love is a place  
&amp; through this place of  
love move  
(with brightness of peace)  
all places_

yes is a world  
&amp; in this world of  
yes live  
(skilfully curled)  
all worlds

The text from Adam came early in the morning when the sun had barely begun to rise. Kris was asleep on his bottom bunk on the bus, headed for the next destination and Adam the same.

He would wake up, the phone beeping, reading Adam's words that spoke to that voice in his heart.

**Love. It will always know where we are.**

And to that, Kris smiled.  


**Author's Note:**

> **Author's Notes:** This fic used lyrics from the following songs: Before We Come Undone, Can't Stay Away and Lifetime, all co-written by Kris Allen, and the following poems from ee cummings: because it's (excerpt) and love is a place (full).


End file.
